Agatha
by dolphinrain
Summary: Ned is feeling a little down and Veronica listens to some childhood memories. Just a short vignette.


Agatha

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Lost World and am making no profit for writing this. All of my stories are written to help keep interest in The Lost World alive and because I love these characters).

(Another short vignette that gives a short insight into the life of one of the explorers).

The explorers were up early this morning. Challenger had been insisting for several days that the windmill needed tending. He also wanted to make improvements to the pipes that brought water to the Treehouse from the pond. Roxton and Malone had agreed to help him with the tasks. But when morning arrived a misstep had Malone on the floor clutching his ankle. Upon examining the joint, Challenger concluded it wasn't broken…just twisted.

"You'll need to stay off this for a few days, Ned," Challenger told him as he wrapped the ankle in clean linens. He sighed. "I suppose the windmill can wait a few more days."

"We could still go see what exactly it needs, George," Roxton said. "Perhaps at least get started on it."

"I'll stay here and make certain he stays put," Veronica said as she patted Ned's shoulder.

"I'll be just fine here alone," Ned grumbled. He hated being sidelined like this and had already been in a foul mood since before his misstep. Truthfully, he'd been unusually grumpy the past few days. Marguerite had teased him this morning about being so clumsy and he had finally snapped at her.

"Care to join us, Marguerite?" Roxton asked.

"I suppose someone has to keep the two of you out of trouble," she replied as she finished her cup of tea. "Besides, I don't want to continue listening to Malone's whining."

"Marguerite," Roxton chided her and rolled his eyes. He had warned her to leave Ned alone already twice today. "We'll be back before nightfall you two." He spoke this in a tone that even Marguerite couldn't argue with.

It was nearly noon before Ned's mood began to improve. Veronica had helped him to sit on the balcony where he could at least observe the birds and animals in the nearby trees. She brought him a journal, pen and ink and his binoculars. He was soon laughing at the antics of a small group of monkeys playing in a nearby tree. There were perhaps six or seven monkeys including one female with a tiny infant that clung to its mother's fur. As lunchtime neared, Veronica brought a tray with fruit, slices of ham from a wild pig and hot tea. Ned didn't mind the extra attention from the girl he loved.

"It's amazing here sometimes," he said as they ate and watched the monkeys. The animals had settled in the branches for a midday snooze, the tiny infant held securely in its mother's arms.

"I agree. But how is it amazing?" Veronica asked. This was the first Ned had initiated a conversation since this morning.

"For a few reasons," he said. "You, for one. But it can be peaceful here when we're not running from cannibals or raptors. I grew up in Chicago and New York. It was usually pretty noisy there and dirty, too. There were parks to visit but the people are always in such a hurry."

"What was it like growing up there? None of you really talk about that."

"My parents had a little money. Nothing like Roxton or Challenger and probably not people Marguerite would have associated with but we had a nice house, especially in New York. Nice neighborhood with a lot of trees and we had a big yard. My mother used to always grow roses and peonies. She had a little garden and I used to love her wisteria. I had an older brother and two sisters."

Veronica laughed lightly. "So you're the baby of the family?"

"Yeah," he laughed in return. "My sisters used to like pushing me in the carriage like I was THEIR baby. Especially my sister, Agatha. She was only two years older than me and we were really close. She was my best friend, too. We used to get into all sorts of mischief. I honestly think we made our mother's hair turn gray early.

"Aggie used to read to me all the time and we would make up our own stories sometimes. I think she's the one who got me interested in wanting to write. She used to write in journals all the time. She was such a sweet person. Veronica, I think you would have liked her."

His expression softened and he leaned back in his chair. For several minutes he didn't speak and he seemed lost in his thoughts.

"What happened to her, Ned?" Veronica finally asked reaching to take his hand in hers.

"We were playing in the yard, throwing a baseball around. This little dog came running into the yard and we started tossing the ball to it. I…threw the ball too hard and it went rolling into the street. Aggie ran after the ball…she never saw this carriage and the driver couldn't stop in time. She died two days later."

"Ned, I'm so sorry. How old were you?"

"I was ten. She had just turned twelve. Yesterday would have been her birthday."

Veronica's eyes narrowed as realization hit her. "That's why you've been so distracted lately. And why you've let Marguerite get to you so much."

"I have been a little snappy, haven't I?" he smiled. "I suppose I'll have to apologize later today."

"I think they'll understand, Ned." She softly kissed his cheek. "So whatever happened to your brother and other sister?"

"Robert and Maria. We got along well enough but they were both several years older and had their own circle of friends. My mother did continue encouraging me with the writing. She always made sure I had good writing paper and pens. She bought me my first journals. I actually started writing about Aggie first. Some of the things we did. I could see her trying to follow me here to the Plateau to keep me out of trouble." He sighed again. "I wonder sometimes what kind of life she might have lived. I…do think sometimes if I hadn't thrown that ball so hard…"

"You can't blame yourself for that, Ned. You were just a kid. It was an accident."

"I stopped blaming myself for it a long time ago. I just missed getting to grow up with her." A thought seemed to occur to him. "Would you mind bringing me that small journal of mine? The small black one that's all faded. It's in the desk in my room."

Veronica nodded as she went to bring it to him. This was one of the few journals he had never shown even her and even Marguerite had never read. It was clearly an old journal, with the pages yellowed with age and the corners beginning to fray. The spine was worn with having been opened many times. There was a small card marking a page and it too was showing wear. She handed it to him as she sat down, her curiosity piqued.

He opened to the marked page and took out the card. The card was actually an old photograph. In it were four well-dressed children, the youngest sitting in a carriage with a huge frown on his face. Veronica covered her mouth as she started to laugh.

"Is that you?" she pointed to the grumpy child in the carriage.

"Yes," he nodded. "I remember my mother telling me the photographer had a hard time getting me to sit still. But that's Aggie." He pointed to a fair haired girl with a bow in her hair smiling for all that she was worth.

"She's beautiful, Ned. And she does look just like you."

"I've always carried this photo and journal with me. It used to be one of Aggie's journals."

For a long time they sat there as Ned related some of the mischief he and his sister would get into, often trying the limits of their parents' patience. He told her how Aggie, although not much bigger than he, would stand up to other children who would tease him for being small for his age. Veronica in turn related some of her childhood on the Plateau. She told him some of her experiences with the Amazons and her closeness with Assai who she often felt was like a sister.

They were startled when they heard the elevator on its way up. Neither had realized how late it had gotten and Veronica got to her feet.

"I'll see about getting dinner started," she said when she saw the slight flush to Ned's face.

"I think I need a little help up," he said with a small laugh.

She paused a moment then smiled. "I'll get Roxton to help you with that."

Roxton instead found one of Summerlee's old walking sticks. He did help the journalist to the stairs but left him alone after that. Once his needs were met, Ned returned to his room for a bit. He sat reading through the journal but found the picture was missing. Before long he heard Veronica calling that dinner was ready. He slowly made his way to the balcony to look for the missing photo.

"This way to the table, Ned," Veronica persisted.

"Veronica, have you seen…" he stopped short when he saw the table and his eyes widened.

Fresh flowers had been gathered into a vase and decorations adorned the dining area. The cake Veronica had made earlier that day now had the name Agatha spelled out across the top with slices of fruit. Beside the cake was a frame of silver and light-stained wood. In the frame was his old photo.

"What's this?" he asked as he picked up the frame.

"I thought this photo needed to be preserved and this frame needed just the right photograph to show it well," Veronica hugged him. "And a late Happy Birthday, Agatha."

Ned stared at the framed photo as tears formed at the corners of his eyes. He had to admit the old picture never looked better.

(Thank you for reading and If you do read please leave a review.)


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